Poor grandma was conscience-stricken, drew me into her own room, and did not let me leave it until after she had soothed my hurts and we had become friends again.

Georgia went to Mrs. Bergwald’s, and remained quite a while.  When she came back speaking English, and insisting that she was an American, grandma became very angry, and threatened to send her away among strangers; then hesitated, as if realizing how fully Georgia belonged to me and I to her, and that we would cling together whatever might happen.  In her perplexity, she besought Mrs. Bergwald’s advice.

Now, Mrs. Bergwald was a native of Stockholm, a lady of rare culture, and used the French language in conversing with grandma.  She spoke feelingly of my little sister, said that she was companionable, willing, and helpful; anxious to learn the nicer ways of work, and ladylike accomplishments.  She could see no harm in Georgia wishing to remain an American, since to love one’s own people and country was natural.

Thereafter grandma changed her methods.  She gave us our dolls to look at, and keep among our possessions, likewise most of our keepsakes.  She also unlocked her carefully tended parlor and we three spent pleasant evenings there.  Sometimes she would let us bring her, from under the sofa, her gorgeous prints, illustrating “Wilhelm Tell,” and would repeat the text relating to the scenes as we examined each picture with eager interest.

We were also allowed to go to Sunday school oftener, and later, she sent me part of the term to the select school for girls recently established by Dr. Ver Mehr, an Episcopalian clergyman.  In fact, my tuition was expected to offset the school’s milk bill, yet that did not lessen my enthusiasm.  I was eager for knowledge.  I also expected to meet familiar faces in that great building, which had been the home of Mr. Jacob Leese.  But upon entering I saw only finely dressed young ladies from other parts of the State promenading in the halls, and small girls flitting about in the yard like bright-winged butterflies.  Some had received letters from home and were calling out the news; others were engaged in games that were strange to me.  The bell rang, I followed to the recitation hall, and was assigned a seat below the rest, because I was the only small Sonoma girl yet enrolled.

I made several life-long friends at that institute; still it was easy to see that “St. Mary’s Hall” was established for pupils who had been reared in the lap of wealth and ease; not for those whose hands were rough like mine.  Nor was there a class for me.  I seemed to be between grades, and had the discouragement of trying to keep up with girls older and farther advanced.

My educational advantages in Sonoma closed with my half term at St. Mary’s Hall, grandma believing that I had gone to school long enough to be able to finish my studies without teachers.

Georgia was more fortunate.  When Miss Hutchinson opened “The Young Ladies’ Seminary” in the Fall, grandma decided to lend it a helping hand by sending her a term as a day scholar.  My delighted sister was soon in touch with a crowd of other little girls, and brought home many of their bright sayings for my edification.